


This Love is Alive, Back from the Dead

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, ouat spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>so my headcanon is that emma gives up half of her heart a la snowing and brings him back with a true love’s kiss… and i don’t know about you, but i think this fandom needs some smutty smut smut ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Love is Alive, Back from the Dead

She’s never looked so angry and perturbed as she does right now as she follows him up the steps to his room at Granny’s, quiet huffs of indignation falling from her lips as she trudges behind him. He turns, shoots her a shaky grin on their ascent but she doesn’t respond kindly, just glares at him with this look that practically  _kills_  him (the term feels hollow in his mind because he almost was  _dead_  and he’d almost left her and  _gods_ , it’s awful to think he’d have broken her heart in the process, all in his vain attempt to be  _normal_  for her).

Her actions earlier spoke volumes to him though (she gave up her heart for him, her own bloody  _heart_ , without a thought to the implications if it didn’t work, and then to top it all off, she’d kissed him and activated it and he’s not sure of anything anymore after the rush of air refilled his lungs, the rainbow-colored magic clouding his vision until all he saw was a halo of golden blonde curls and a smile that could beacon a bloody fleet of ships home) and he wonders if she’s nervous, that despite the finality of the day’s events have that he’s still not worth it, that he can have half of her heart but not the rest and that he’s too much of a dark and evil person to warrant any and all affections from anyone, least of all the  _Savior_.

He slides the key into the door, listening to the patter of her feet as she shuffles behind him, his arm gesturing her in first with a mock bow.

In the past, it would have elicited a smile, or at the very least an eye roll, but now it gets him a frown and concerned lines on her forehead that he wants nothing more than to smooth over. She marches past him into his room and he sighs, because if he had to fail anyone, he really wishes it wasn’t his Swan.

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” he begins as he shuts the door, defeat and disgust laced within his tone. He doesn’t want to turn around though, doesn’t want to see the disappointment written all over her face at his actions of late.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she grits out, and he finally pivots to see it, to see the failure she sees in him, to see what his loss did to her, to see what he shouldn’t have anymore. 

He lets his shoulders drop, looks down at the floor in embarrassment. “As you wish.”

She exhales loudly, paces in front of him, biting her lower lip in frustration. “I am  _so_  mad at you, Killian.”

“As you should be,” he responds, and his eyes don’t leave the floor, not daring to look up at the frenzied woman in front of him, who’s about ready to beat the ever loving shit out of him.

(He’d let her if she wanted to, at his Swan’s mercy from day one.)

She rubs her face over, groaning as she steps towards him. “What the hell were you thinking going after Gold like that? And all for a  _hand_?”

“I… I don’t know, love,” he answers, shuffling backwards towards the door, letting his back hit the surface, leaning against it to keep him upright (countering the sickening repulsion in his stomach, a side effect of the deep hatred he feels towards his own character, her heart beating in his chest is an overwhelming sensation, something like  _love_  thumping away against his breastbone, making him dizzy with want and need that he doesn’t quite think he deserves to feel).

“You died in my freaking  _arms_ ,” she states, her voice rising in her haste. “You died and I lost you! And you promised!”

He shakes his head. He wants to run, escape, or let her leave and walk past him and out of his life, off to a better one with someone who can be everything she needs, who can be whole and a hero and not this dark, ugly excuse of a man. “Look, I can explain. I… I just wanted to be a better man for you. I wanted to be the person you deserve to be with, but now I’m not quite sure I deserve you at all.”

He’s just about to open the door and let her  _go_  when her hands find his cheeks and she lifts his face to meet her gaze, green eyes dark and misty and worried before she’s tugging his face to hers and letting her lips crash into his.

He doesn’t know how to respond until her hand threads through the hair at the nape of his neck and he’s gone, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close to him. She moans when his lips part, his tongue darting in quickly and taking advantage, her body rolling against his in response.

He wants to drown in her, wants to feel every part of her against him, his heart (her heart,  _their_  heart) swelling to unfathomable amounts as she deepens the kiss, their stances unsteady against the door.

But he pulls away, offering her a puzzled look as he takes her in, kiss-swollen lips and wide green eyes and flushed cheeks and mussed hair. “Swan, what are you doi—”

Her fingers find his lips, halting his question with a tap. “No, you don’t get to talk anymore.”

“Emma, we shouldn’t—”

Her hand covers his mouth fully, muffling the sounds of his protests. “No talking. Not now.”

He nods before kissing the palm of her hand tenderly, and she finally smiles, though small and timid, but he’ll take it nonetheless.

He takes her hand in his and brushes his lips against her knuckles in a soothing gesture, eyeing her through his lashes and then she’s tugging him to her by the lapels of his jacket, crushing her lips to his, pushing hard at his leather sleeves, letting his jacket drop to the floor with a loud thud. He does the same with hers, their lips tangling, fighting for dominance, and he grumbles in frustration when his hook gets caught on her sleeve and they have to break for a moment to free it, shrugging the offending garment off her shoulders, resuming their kiss with a nip to each other’s lips.

She leads, as always, guiding them back to his bed, spinning him around so she can push him down into a seated position.

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathes, feeling his heart answer in time with his words (feeling her heart so much stronger than before).

She climbs into his lap, straddling his hips as she works at the buttons on his waistcoat, mumbling about  _so many… goddamnit_  before she rips it free, doing the same with his dress shirt. She proceeds to run her fingers across his chest, fingernails scraping lightly at his chest hair, causing a shudder to run down his spine, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. She pushes it off his shoulders and throws it haphazardly behind her before her mouth is latching to his collarbone, sucking a bruise there while her tongue soothes the burn. His fingers tangle in her curls and he pulls her back to recapture her lips, hand and hook fumbling to lift the sweater off her frame, thumbing at the strange light pink corset that frames her breasts before she helps in unclasping it, letting it fall between them.

“Gods, Emma,” he breathes out, at a loss for any word besides, “ _Beautiful_.”

She smiles, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, the blush creeping down down  _down_  and he lets his lips follow it with nips and sucks and licks and bites until she’s a writhing mess, hips undulating against the growing bulge in his leathers at a frantic pace.

“ _Killian_ ,” she murmurs, before hopping off his lap, unbuttoning her jeans, giving him the silent cue that he is wearing too many clothes, his fingers frantically untying the laces on his leathers and kicking them off to the side.

She reaches for the matching pink lace wrapped around her hips before he tugs her closer with his hook, shaking his head in protest. “Let me,” he pleads, eyes alight with mischief before his hook rips the garment to shreds, lips finding her nipple and sucking it between his lips (he practically falls apart at the moan that tumbles from her lips, the slight arch of her chest into his mouth making him see bloody stars already).

His fingers find her folds, sliding through slick, heated flesh with ease, a whimper escaping that sounds vaguely like  _please, more_ before he’s moving in rhythm, thumb toying with her clit with every swipe.

He pushes in a long finger, curling it just so, making her whine with need, making him pump even faster, adding a second finger, greedy to hear her. It’s fast and easy as she heads towards her first release, and after a few light strokes of her clit, she’s tumbling over the edge.

It’s with that that she pushes him down onto the mattress, her soaked folds rubbing over his straining erection as she hovers over him, hand finding his cock and positioning it at her entrance, sinking down on him in one fluid motion, moaning in praise when he fills her to the hilt.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he groans out, thrusting up into her as his hand finds her hip, gripping it and moving her above him, his hook lightly cupping her ass as she moves slow and steady, her eyes fixed on his.

“I. can’t. lose.  _you_ ,” she chants, each word punctuated with a determined roll of her hips. “I can’t, Killian,” she reaffirms, her hips rocking faster, stronger,  _and needier_ against his.

He nods in quick understanding, sitting up to capture a breast in his mouth, teeth tugging at her nipple, suckling on one and then the other, making her mumble  _oh dear god yes_  through gritted teeth.

Her hips start to circle faster, her release on the horizon, and he uses his hooked arm to brace himself in an upright position, angling his hips just so, hitting her at a new angle, his cock brushing her clit every so often.

The lights in his room begin to flicker when she gasps, and he knows it’s her magic thrumming to life (and he would be a fool if he didn’t admit he was bloody turned on by it, the thought of sending the whole damned town into darkness thrilling).

She moans out his name, “ _Killian_ ,” before she falls apart again, body trembling with the force of her orgasm, his hand still clutching her hip, his cock moving in and out of her in chase of his own release.

She’s like putty in his arms, and he uses her moment of weakness to flip her, pressing her firmly into the mattress and thrusting into her without restraint. She tugs on his hair when she comes to, pulling his lips into a brutal kiss, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip when he breaks away to groan at the warm feel of her around him.

The lights flicker again, and he’s impressed she’s on the brink of one more, her body responding to him with a fire like none other.

“Come on, Swan,” he manages through the haze of lust, his voice low and hoarse as he chants, “One more time, love.”

She cranes her neck to nibble at his mouth, tongue swirling against the blood marks forming on his bottom lip before she’s using the grip she has on his hair to guide him, swooping her tongue into his mouth and practically devouring him, passion and want and need pouring out from her kiss.

“With… me,” she manages to croak out after a whimper. “ _Together_.”

His hand reaches between them to find her throbbing clit, thumb brushing hard, calculated circles in time with the driving force of his hips and she arches her back, the lights in his room flickering once, twice before they flicker off in an explosion of light, sound and glass, the hum of the town powering down echoing throughout Storybrooke as her orgasm hits her, and he pistons just a little harder, a little messier as he rides her through it, her tight walls clamping down on him, causing his own release to sputter out of him on a throaty groan.

It might be minutes, or hours, or  _days_  before they come to, she pinned underneath his weight, sweat slicked bodies glued to one another as they come back to their senses, boneless and sated and  _bloody hell_  he hasn’t had sex like that in… well,  _never_  to be quite honest.

(Sex with your true love, whose heart is half-stored in the previously empty cavity in your chest, who also has powerful light magic that is activated by her love, is an animal unto itself.)

“That was…” she starts, her lips breaking out into a toothy grin when he realizes the memory attached to those two words.

“Bloody  _amazing_ ,” he finishes, and she chuckles while he rolls off her, pulling her close to his frame, wrapping both arms securely around her waist, she doing the same to his torso as if the simple action will keep them both safe.

There are sirens outside, her phone buzzing in the pocket of her jeans lying somewhere on the floor but she stays put, drawing endless circles into his chest hair when he hears it, low and soft and almost a whisper…

“You weren’t supposed to die.”

He sighs, tucking his hand under her chin so he can look her in the eye when he says it. “Aye, I know, love. And I failed you.”

There’s tears forming in her eyes, and she smiles weakly, shrugging her shoulders in mild defeat before the dams break and she lets the tears fall, lets herself be vulnerable in front of him.

“I wasn’t supposed to lose you,” she continues, his hand now cupping her cheek, thumb desperately attempting to wipe away her tears.

“You won’t now, I promise,” he reassures her.

She nods, whimpering in a different way than before, lower lip trembling before she exhales, “I love you.”

Despite everything that has happened (the splitting of her heart for him, the successful true love’s kiss, falling easily into bed with her), the three words still cause him to startle, his eyes softening as she awaits his response.

He leans in first, placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, calming the tremble in her body. His forehead comes to rest against hers, her body molding into his before he murmurs it against her lips. “I love you too.”

(He tells her again against her jaw, then her neck, her collarbone, each breast. He carefully traces the words down her stomach, leaving them scattered across her hips and the inside of her thighs, whispering them into the space between her legs, showing her his love in every way possible before she flips him over and promises him the same in return.) 


End file.
